If anything, he was disproving everything he’d convinced himself of at the wedding—that he would be able to make love to Julie. Real love.
How? Because he was getting a fucking hard-on even though she was lying there in pain. He could feel the lust building—while she was hurt. What would happen when she was healthy?
No. He was better than just his dick. He could do this.
He squared his shoulders and gingerly tugged the dress over her hips and down her legs.
Fuck me.
“Help— Help me with the garter belt,” she said with a grimace.
Using an incredible amount of restraint not to glide his hand up the inside of her thigh first, he reached around to her lower back and fumbled with the tiny clasp, fingers trembling, until he was able to release it from around her waist.
She’s hurt, she’s hurt, she’s hurt.
He repeated the words as, one by one, he unhooked the four satin-covered fasteners that held the hose to the beribboned lace. Then, with his heart in his throat—and his cock making a frantic bid to break through his zipper—he slowly rolled the first stocking down over her knee, down her calf, and over her foot. The chant didn’t help. If anything, it made him even more aware of what he was doing.
Undressing Julie.
As he removed the other stocking, he couldn’t stop the vision of what he would’ve done next if he’d been stripping Julie in the way he suddenly wanted to, for a whole different reason than he was.
Hell, who was he kidding? They wouldn’t even have gotten this far. The stockings would’ve stayed on, and he’d either have his head or cock thrust firmly between her legs.
He leaned over her and slid off the clingy lace belt that still encased the beautiful swell of her hips. After he tugged it off, he stared at the minuscule piece of material in his hand, swallowed heavily, and slowly lifted his head.
Their eyes connected.
He couldn’t look away. He could feel the heat in his own eyes as he communicated exactly what he was feeling with his gaze and not his mouth—and God how he wanted to communicate with his mouth, right between those beautiful thighs. Jesus. He tore his gaze away and mentally cursed himself.
This was not a thought he approved of when it came to Julie. This was how he thought about the women he took to his bed who didn’t mean anything to him, no more than he’d meant to them. Their focus had been on the sex, the pleasure…the physical gratification. Julie meant something to him. With her it had to be different. Long kisses. Holding her damn hand. Treating her sweetly. Any other behavior was unacceptable.
Maybe her getting hurt had been some kind of omen. A way for him to see that he was incapable of change. That he would always be the male version of his mom. It was all he knew. All he’d seen. The endless parade of men.. And as soon as he’d started dating, he’d followed the exact same pattern. The older he got, the more he realized he was cut from the same cloth as his mother—because no woman interested him for longer than a really good night in bed. By morning, he was gone, and on to the next.
What if he did that to Julie?
He needed to reassess his plan. Staying away from her was the better option, after all.
“You can give me the outfit now,” she said. “I’ll get it on.”
“I’ll help.” When he stepped forward, she started shaking her head.
“Uh. No. I’ve got it.” When he hesitated, she said, “Seriously. I’ve. Got. It. Why don’t you, uh, go do something else?”
As he turned to leave, tension knotted his shoulders. There had been no way she hadn’t seen his blatant desire for her. And her response had been to tell him to leave. Because of fucking Brody Minton?
Tommy didn’t give a rat’s ass what the universe was trying to tell him. Julie would not be with that man. And if that meant Tommy had to keep his cock in his pants for the next fucking year, he’d keep his damn cock in his pants, and like it.
Julie deserved better than both of them.
…
Julie really hated being in Tommy’s bed. The pillows smelled like him. His scent surrounded her.
Suffocated her. She’d go back to her own bed in a hot minute if she could, but with her muscles all tensed up, she was pretty much stationary. And there was no way she was asking him to carry her again.
Hell, no.
Not after what she’d imagined she’d seen in his eyes as he’d looked at her almost naked body. Had the desire really been there, or had it been her own desperation rearing up again?
If it had been any other man, there wouldn’t have been a second of doubt in her mind. But he wasn’t any other man. He was Tommy. And Tommy came with a long history that directly contradicted anything she thought she might have seen. But…
No. She gave herself a mental shake. It hadn’t been there. He did not want her. Not that way.
When he walked into the bedroom carrying some muscle ointment and an ice pack, she focused on petting the top of Lucy’s head.
The pup whined but pushed her head up into Julie’s palm.